


Freshman Fifteen

by Arsenic



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-21
Updated: 2008-09-21
Packaged: 2020-07-11 00:29:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19915768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Once upon a time, Ryan Ross went off to college.  Written for liketheroad's birthday.





	Freshman Fifteen

Ryan woke up with his temples pounding, not completely sure of where he was. The bed underneath him wasn't familiar, nor the patterns in the darkness. Ryan bit his lip and closed his eyes, thinking that might change if he just focused. He opened them again. The patterns were the same. Then he remembered. "Right. Dorm."

Ryan looked over to the other bed in the room. Thankfully, his roommate was evidently somewhere getting lucky. Again.

Ryan rolled over onto his back and took a breath. He grabbed his cell from the stand beside the bed and checked the time--almost three fifteen. He wouldn't call Spencer, he wouldn't. It could wait 'til morning.

Ryan hunched up on his side, drawing the covers almost over his head, and told himself he was asleep until the sun rose and he didn't have to lie anymore.

*

He didn't call Spencer in the morning, either. He had class at nine--fucking core requirements--and even though Spencer was usually up at eight for school, Ryan didn't want to bother him while he was getting ready. Ryan went to class and did his best not to fall asleep. He did fall asleep while eating lunch in the cafeteria, just put his head down next to his tray and dozed off.

A cafeteria worker woke him up while cleaning the tables and said, sympathetically, "I totally feel you."

Ryan was late to his afternoon class.

*

It ended up being Spencer who called Ryan, at around seven that night. Ryan picked up and said, "Spencer," hoping his relief wasn't too obvious. Spencer would know anyway. Sometimes having a friend who had known him forever was problematic in that way.

"We're still on for practice tomorrow night, right? Because Brent wanted me to confirm. Just in case, you know, he didn't want to be sitting around or anything."

Ryan could hear Spencer roll his eyes. He knew that meant Brent was trying to get out because he wanted to go on a date. Ryan worried about that a little, about how it seemed like Brent never really _wanted_ to be at practice, but he showed and he played, so Ryan wasn't going to drive himself crazy over it. At least, he'd try not to. Brent was steady. Brent was...Brent. "Yeah, we're on."

Spencer said, "Have you been busy, or something?"

"Uh, not, I mean. Classes. And I've been writing, kinda." Not really.

"Okay. And that's why you haven't called in three days?"

Ryan's grip tightened on the phone. It had been easy, when he was just always around Spencer, when Spencer could tell him to go home if he really needed to, or Ryan could look over and see that Spencer seemed to really want him there. "Sorry, I-- Sorry."

"I have the option of not answering, you know?"

Ryan knew. He didn't know if he could stand to have it happen.

"You're such an asshole. _Call._ "

Ryan nodded, even though Spencer couldn't see him. Spencer said, "I'll see you tomorrow, doucheface."

Ryan waited until Spencer hung up to hit the "end" button.

*

Brendon attacked on sight, clinging to Ryan's head. "Ryan Ross. Why why why did you go to college and leave me?"

Ryan took considerably longer than he normally would have to reclaim his head.

Brent smiled over at him and asked, "How's college?"

Ryan shrugged. "Better than high school." It was kind of true. People left him alone. He didn't think about the ways in which it was worse.

Spencer asked, "Bio still kicking your ass?"

Ryan said, "Shut up," but he smiled as he said it, his first smile in what felt like a week. The last time he'd made it to practice with them. Another week and that would go up in regularity, as soon as his financial aid check came in and he had some money for gas. He strapped his guitar over his head and said, "So. Are we going to play, or what?"

*

When Brendon had left for his shift and Brent for home, Spencer said, "Stay, Ry."

"I have class first thing in the morning."

"Skip it."

"Spencer--"

"Skip it. It's one class. You're not gonna lose the scholarship over one class."

Ryan hesitated for one second, _one second_ and Spencer said, "Ha! I win."

"Just because you say it, doesn't make it so."

"Don't see you heading for the door."

Ryan sighed. "I hate you."

Spencer nodded. "I get that a lot. It's hard being this beautiful."

He didn't mean to, not at all, but Ryan laughed.

*

Since Ryan's money went to things like gas and studio time and strings for his guitar, he lived entirely off dorm food. He tried not to be a complete glutton when he was at Spencer's, but Ginger would cook things that actually looked like their name and description and the temptation was just way too much. Spencer sometimes verbally mused on how much food it would take to see Ryan explode, but mostly nobody said anything except maybe, "Want more?"

They went to Spencer's room and Spencer let Ryan have the bed, let him stretch out on his stomach with his notebook in front of him and a pen clenched between his teeth. For the first time in weeks, Ryan felt like maybe he could reach some of the words under his skin. Spencer was fucking around on his computer, laughing at an email, IMing Brendon. The background noise of it seeped into Ryan, like a soundtrack, and he put his pen to the page.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been writing when Spencer came over and laid down atop him. Ryan noticed there were a lot of words, a couple of pages worth.

"Anything good?" Spencer asked.

"Dunno. I-- No idea."

"Jesus, I think you've gotten even bonier."

"Not my problem you don't know the difference between a bed and a friend."

"Kinda your problem at the moment."

Ryan struggled fruitlessly to dislodge Spencer. He had known it was a lost cause before he even started and yet, somehow, had been unable to stop himself. Spencer said, "King of the fucking mountain, bitch," and Ryan said, "Yeah, yeah. Wanna get off me before I asphyxiate and you have to explain your deviant sexual practices to your parents?"

Spencer laughed, but rolled off Ryan. "Wanna sneak out the window and do a midnight cupcake run?"

"Your parents know we do that, you know. We could just go out the front door."

"That would take all the fun out of it," Spencer explained, speaking slowly, as if to a young, and somewhat touched, child.

Ryan rolled his eyes. "Fine."

"You know you love it."

Ryan really did.

*

By "cupcakes" Spencer meant "Hostess" or anything with more preservatives than flour. There was a twenty-four hour grocery store about a half a mile away that they could technically drive to now, but still walked to, because it was tradition. They dug into their loot on the way back, walking in silence. They climbed back in Spencer's window despite the front lights having been turned on, clearly for them. Spencer went to go get them some milk and when he came back said, "My mom says to get some sleep."

Ryan took his glass and tipped it against Spencer's. "To your mom."

"It's hard to hear the words 'your mom' and not laugh anymore."

"This is what western society has wrought," Ryan agreed solemnly.

"Wrought." Spencer nodded. "You shouldn't have left. My vocabulary has taken a nosedive. Brendon actually caught me saying 'git'r done' a couple of days ago."

"Yeah, but that was clearly you just thinking you're a cowboy."

"We don't all have to grow up, Ryan Ross. Your hero is Pete fucking Wentz."

"Second star to the right is--" Ryan smiled, though. "Okay, fine. But you woulda made one dumbass cowboy."

"You're just worried I would've made you poke the cows."

"Poke the cows?" Ryan asked mildly.

"You're _clearly_ the cowpoke to my cowboy."

"You weren't kidding when you said your vocab had gone to shit. Do you even know what a cowpoke is?"

"I thought we'd been over this--a poker of cows."

Ryan opened his mouth to respond, but Spencer smiled guilelessly at him, and Ryan lost it, doubling over in laughter. "This isn't over, Smith."

"You always say that when you know I've got you beat."

*

Ryan woke up to sunlight streaming in the window. He rolled over and his eye caught on the note covering the alarm clock. It said, "Mom woke me up. I figured so long as you were skipping class you could use the sleep. Call when you get back, there was something I wanted to tell you."

Ryan looked at the time, winced and got out of bed. He changed into one of Spencer's shirts after a quick shower, and left a note of his own in the drawer: "I'll bring it back after I've washed it."

*

Ryan went to his afternoon class, tried to figure out what the hell he'd missed in his morning class and pulled a few hours at his work study in admissions. When he was free of the Land of Alphabetization and Filing he called Spencer. "Hey, you had something you needed to tell me?"

"Nah, I just wanted you to call."

"You think you're so clever."

"I am. Ryan Ross would never be friends with me, otherwise."

"That so?"

"I'm sure of it."

Ryan made a noise that was half-confirmation, half-amusement.

Softly, Spencer said, "Miss you. I was starting to think you thought you were too cool for me. College kid, and all."

"That's stupid."

"What's stupid is that you don't call because you think I might be too busy, or just have better things to do."

Ryan wanted to deny it, but he didn't lie to Spencer. He might omit details, but he didn't _lie_.

"Yeah. I talked with my parents. I'm gonna come out there this weekend."

Ryan bit his lip.

"Ryan."

"You sure?"

" _Ryan._ "

Ryan smiled, just a little. "'Kay. Yeah. That's. I'd really like that."

"Good," Spencer said. "Because it's happening."

Ryan believed him.


End file.
